Flying Free
by The Blue Winged Angel
Summary: Wing is a rogue cat born in the mountains. Lonely and quiet, all she wants is to preserve her own freedom and protect the spirit of the mountains. But soon a strange tribe of cats calling themselves a 'Clan' moves into her mountain range, and Wing struggles to reconcile her new relationship with the Clan cats, and her old life. Will she be able to protect her freedom?
1. Prolouge

**A/N: Hello everyone, this is my new story, a sort of side-project that I'll work on when I'm stuck for ideas for On the Wings of Night, like now. It's roughly based on the amazing Owl City song, 'On the Wing,' (in a, I got the idea while listening to that song sort of way) which I was originally going to call it until I realized that On the Wings of Night has practically the same name.**

**Anyways, this story is going to be somewhere around seven or eight chapters, including the prolouge and possible epilouge, so don't expect much more than that. Also. It gets really, really dark a little later on, and a bit violent, so viewer discretion is advised, whatever that means.**

**Enjoy!**

Prolouge

Wing stumbled along behind her brother. He had always been smaller, but faster. She had to admit, although she was stronger than him, right now she'd give just about anything to be as fast as him. If she lost another race she'd look totally stupid. Jag had been the runt of their litter of three, and yet he'd always been able to outrun Wing and Red. When an eagle had swooped down to attack the kits just two moons ago, Jag had gotten to his feet and dashed away, revealing his speed. Wing had run too, but Red hadn't made it.

The little gray kit narrowed her eyes at Jag. _You may be faster, but I can run for longer._ If she could figure out a way to get him to run really fast, he'd wear himself out, and she would win easily. Wing sighed, and put on a burst of speed, running as fast as she could.

Jag glanced back at her, alarm evident in his eyes as Wing began to come closer to him. Wing smirked. _Serves you right for saying I'd never win a race._ Then her brother began to run faster than she'd ever seen him run before. He dashed around a tree and started up the trail that led to the peak of the mountain.

Wing slowed to a stop. "Great, an uphill trail," she said aloud, half sarcastically, half not. On the one paw, Jag would wear himself out within minutes going uphill at that speed. On the other paw, Wing herself would soon get tired going uphill. She shook her head. _I'll win this race no matter what happens. _She started quickly walking up the trail, hoping that Jag would slow to a walk soon.

Sure enough, after several minutes she turned a corner to find Jag walking at about the same speed as her, apparently worn out. Wing grinned and sped up, running past her brother. "See you at the top!" she called over her shoulder, dashing away.

After that, it was easy. Wing had a lot of- what had her mother called it?- stamina. She could run for a long time without getting too tired. While uphill was harder, it wasn't too hard. Soon she could see the peak of the mountain up ahead and Jag was at least four eagle-wings behind her. Wing put on a burst of speed and found herself at the top of the mountain, the wind buffeting her fur. She gasped in awe.

She could see the entire world.

The mountain range stretched forever and ever in front of her, off to the horizon, a bumpy purplish blue stretch that reached out to where the sun was rising through the pinkish sky. Far to her left and right, Wing could see the mountains flatten out into long, blue flatlands, illuminated by the sun. The world reached forever, and she was at the very top of it. The wind was strong, threatening to push her off the mountain, but Wing knew that she was stronger. She stood firmly, paws planted on the ground, watching the sunrise and the eagles and hawks that swooped and soared above her.

Remembering the ancient rituals that her mother had told her about, which worshipped the sky, she tipped her head upwards. "Thank you!" she cried out to the cloud-covered expanse above her.

A giant eagle swooped just above her, catching her eye. She watched as it banked and soared, letting the wind carry it, flying high above her. She was at the top of the earth but the birds could fly even farther. Wing gazed up at the eagle. "I wish," she began, then she paused. "I wish I could fly as high as the eagle, and higher," she prayed to the sky.

As if in response, the sky cleared itself of clouds.

**A/N: And thus begins this new story. It was a little weird, but whatever.**

**Question of the Day: So as a cat what would you be best at? (Would you be fast, strong, a good fighter or hunter, have lots of stamina, etc?)**

**I really hope you liked it! Well, see you next time. And remember to review! ;)**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: I forgot a lot of the OC's personalities, so if I mess up the one of yours... call it artistic license.**

**And because the chapter is fuzzy on this, Wing is eight moons old here as opposed to the three moons of the prologue. As well, the prologue was a real memory but it's ALSO the dream she just had.**

**...Does this even make sense? **

Wing yawned and sat up. The dream had been not just that, but a memory. She barely remembered the rest of her kithood. The lines were blurred, the faces obscured, but somehow that memory was always crystal-clear. Most likely because it was the only one she truly thought about, except one or two others of her life with her mother and brother. It had been quite the good life, until her mother had given her life to distract a mountain lion while Wing and Jag escaped. At five moons, the two were alone, but Jag managed to make it another moon before succumbing to the coughing disease.

Three moons from then, Wing was alone, except for the occasional rogue that passed through; rogues usually lived in the mountains but they had some big meeting on the plains every green-leaf, prompting quite a few of them to pass through Wing's place.

Wing groomed herself as swiftly as she could before exiting the small cave she lived in now and sniffing the air. She hunted down a rabbit for her breakfast, and scarfed most of it down as quick as she could.

Then she sniffed the air- there was the scent of another cat drifting in, a cat older than her by quite a few moons, but not yet elderly. Probably a rogue. Her suspicions were confirmed as a brown tom came round the bend.

"Dusty..?" Wing asked, unsure. She hadn't seen the tom since she was very small.

He frowned. "Cass?" he asked, his voice wary. Wing winced at her mother's name.

"She died a few moons ago. Mountain lion. I'm her daughter," Wing explained.

The tom nodded. "Ah. Hello, Wing. It is Dusty. Long time no see," he said. Wing pushed the remains of the rabbit towards him in a show of good faith. "Oh, I'm not hungry," he said quickly.

"How is your family?" Wing said.

"They're already at the plains; I sent them ahead. Last I heard Willow and Tansy were fine but Rose has whitecough," Dusty explained.

"Well, I hope she gets better," Wing said.

"Hope only goes so far, Wing. Only herbs and the Winged Ones themselves can help her," Dusty said, referencing the gods that most rogues worshiped. Wing herself preferred the old stories of the sky as a god.

"Anyways, I think I can steal some herbs from the new cats that moved into the mountains on my way down," Dusty said.

"New cats?" Wing said.

"Yes, they call themselves a Clan. Rather odd. Anyways, I have to be going. See you in about a moon, Wing. Or not at all," Dusty said with a shrug, and he disappeared into the mountains again.

_A Clan,_ Wing thought to herself. The word seemed so strange, so new. Dusty hadn't said where they were at, but if they were truly new to the mountains there was only one place they would be: the valley. The place at first looked like a sanctuary with its green grass and one or two trees, but with only one unstable food source, a pond that was prone to freezing over, and little shelter, it was actually worse off than the rest of the mountains.

Wing ate the few bites left of her rabbit and padded off down a trail that she knew led to the valley. Soon enough, she found herself there. Indeed, there were some new cats.

There seemed to be quite a few of them; she could smell them from here. There were many little shapes milling around, some drinking from the pond, some hunting, some playing with one another. Three sat upon a rock observing the others. They seemed to have dug out the rabbit warren much larger for use as a den, as well. Their food was piled together, and the kits weren't scared of the cats that weren't related to them, so it probably wasn't a just group of rogues traveling together. Rogues were too wary for that.

Wing decided to creep further down the trail into the valley. She would be exposed now, but her coloring was gray and if she got down quickly enough she would just seem like a part of the mountain if a cat looked at her. She began slinking down the trail.

As she got closer, it became easier and easier to see the cats. There were three who were very clearly authority figures. From this far away, Wing couldn't tell their genders, but one was white with black paws, another a dark brown tabby, and a third a pretty russet color. None of those colors were good for surviving in the mountains; they were definitely all new, then, not just a random gathering of cats, and they'd probably traveled here together.

She watched as three smaller cats, one gray, one brown tabby, one calico, started some sort of game. This 'Clan' looked like a family.

Wing had to admit, she was curious. She wanted to know why they were here, and how their group worked. But they probably wouldn't take kindly to strangers barging in.

As she watched, the white one with black paws glanced up at her. Too late, Wing hit the ground.

"Hello?" she heard a voice call out.

_Mouse-dung._

"I know you're there, so you can come out. I just want to talk," the voice said, sounding kind.

Wing lifted her head to see the white one heading toward the mountain trail, still facing her. The russet cat trailed behind. With a sigh, Wing stood, and started down the mountain. Perhaps she could have run, but that would only lead them back to her home.

They met at the base of the trail. Wing couldn't help but feel they were standing on a threshold, the border between the wild, unbridled freedom of the mountains, and the order and comradeship of this Clan.

The white cat, it turned out, was a tall she-cat. Her eyes were ice-blue, and they sparkled prettily in the morning light. The russet cat was a tom with dark green eyes, and he hung warily behind the she-cat.

"Hello, there. I'm Coldstar, and I'm the leader of this Clan. My friend is Tigerfang. He's, er, my second-in-command," the white she-cat said.

"I'm Wing," Wing said simply.

"Right," Coldstar said. "You live in these mountains, correct?"

"Yes, I do. Further east," Wing said.

"We're not in anyone's territory, right? This is unclaimed land?" Coldstar said. For a leader, she seemed rather nervous.

"Yes," Wing said, though she didn't bother telling Coldstar why. If the she-cat wanted to situate herself in a hard-to-defend valley with few resources, that wasn't Wing's problem.

"Okay, thank you. If you live here I presume you know about how, you know, to survive here? And what the mountains are like?" Coldstar said.

"This is a bad idea, Coldstar," Tigerfang murmured.

"Hush," Coldstar hissed back.

Wing contemplated for a moment. The questions were clearly a veiled request for help, but Wing didn't know if she could really trust these cats. For all she knew, as soon as they knew everything she had to teach, they would just boot her off a mountain.

"I have to worry about my own survival, thanks," she said cooly. "And that, unfortunately, takes up most of my time. I'll see you around." Wing turned and started back up the trail. But she could still feel Coldstar's disappointed gaze burning into her.

**A/N: I like Wing in this chapter. She's matured slightly from the prologue, but not much.**

**Also, I lied about the plot in my profile. (I'll fix that later.) This story does, apparently, have a plot. Thank you, Snowflake Method! Actually, the planned themes and plot and character arcs and so on, changed entirely, so there ya go.**

**QotD: What did you think of how the Clans look from an outside perspective? And would you prefer the, as Wing puts it, 'wild, unbridled freedom of the mountains' or the 'order and comradeship of the Clan'?**

**And because I can, double chapters:**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Anyways.**

Over the course of the next few days, Wing didn't do much. She shuffled from place to place, fetching water, eating mice and small birds, gathering their feathers and fur to warm her nest, and every day visiting the resting places of her family, marked each with a mossy rock brought up from the valley, an age-old custom. She did her best to ignore the Clan cats, who sent regular patrols into the mountains to look for food, and were scaring off quite a few local cats (not to mention the prey).

Then one morning she went out of her usual range to fetch food and water. She went on a day trip to the Clear Pool. It was a large pond that was extraordinarily clear, allowing a cat to look directly to the bottom of the pond if they wished. There was a small fish population, and the occasional bird would swoop down as well. It was also the best water in the mountains by far, at least within the territory Wing knew.

At first she was having a fine day, splashing in the water to clean herself off, drinking from it, fishing, gathering large amounts of water-soaked moss and dead fish to bring home. Then she went around to the hidden shallow cave behind the ivy for a nap. It was a lovely cave, small, well-lit, well-hidden, and with a good gravelly floor. She stretched out for a good sleep.

When she awoke she could hear soft voices and some splashing. She crept up to the ivy to see what was out there. All she could really see was a couple of cat-shapes in the water, but they appeared to be the source of the voices and splashing.

"...you don't even know how to fish, do you? Some RiverClan cat you are. You're scaring everything off." The voice was female and soft-spoken.

"Look, let's just fetch some water and be done with it. I'm sure that there will be something to eat soon enough." This one was male. It sounded tired and disappointed.

"I wanted to spend a day here! We could catch some fish if we _really _tried." This voice was also male, but younger, immature. Around Wing's age. It made the fur on Wing's spine stand up just to listen to him.

Wing took the risk of peeking out from behind the ivy curtain. There were indeed three cats. The she-cat was pale brown, with long fur. The older tom was gray, and his paws appeared to be black. The younger tom was a lighter gray, the color of Wing's fur. In fact, if Wing didn't know better, so far the younger tom would have appeared to be her long-lost littermate.

They were all clearly Clan cats, and they were all scrawny, though not yet going hungry. The she-cat climbed out on shore, shook out her fur, and began soaking the top of a stack of moss in water. The other two followed suit.

Wing debated internally for a few seconds, then walked out of the cave and over to the cats. "You look hungry," she said.

"You're the rogue who was too cowardly to join the other day," the young tom sneered.

"You don't know how to fish," Wing replied.

"I apologize on his behalf. I'm Graystorm, and these are Breezepaw and Fallowsong," said the older tom.

"Is your whole Clan this hungry?" Wing said. Graystorm and Fallowsong looked a little taken aback, and Wing wondered if she'd said something rude. Living in solitude did not lend itself to learning manners.

"Yes, but we'll be fine. We're just adjusting to the mountain life," Fallowsong said.

"Take my fish. I've caught a lot. I can manage," Wing said. Perhaps that wasn't the wise thing to do. But she didn't want to see any cat starve to death. That was what her father had died of, supposedly. She went back to the cave and began pulling out fish. Once more the Clan cats looked taken aback.

"You're very skilled at this," Graystorm commented.

"Moreso even than a RiverClanner," Fallowsong muttered, throwing a sideways glance at Graystorm. Louder she said, "Are you sure you don't want to join our Clan? We can guarantee protection and food, and we have a healer who can fix many diseases and injuries."

Wing paused. Yes, she felt sympathy for these cats, and admittedly, it might be easier to live in a community than on her own. But could she trust them? They might kill her as soon as they thought they had learned everything they could from her.

And yet she missed that sense of family. She only barely remembered having it with her mother and Jag, but it had been a warm, comforting feeling. A feeling she had missed. These cats seemed to have that. Except that Breezepaw. He seemed like a jerk. But there was a jerk in every family.

"Okay," she said.

**A/N: I hope you weren't expecting a long chapter, or any long chapters in this story ever, because there won't be.**

**And yay for more OCs! Just so we're all aware, not all OCs may actually appear in the story. Depends on how it pans out. But, having them was really helpful to me to round out this Clan's personality, backstory, and zeitgeist, so even if your OC doesn't appear in the story it was important.**


End file.
